I'm unsure about this but, let's go on
by North of the North
Summary: England confesses to Canada; but, Canada never finds out about his true feelings.
1. Chapter 1

England stood in his living room staring at the wall in front of him. His back was up against his floral antique couch upon which rested Canada, who was visiting for the weekend before their world meeting, and was deep in sleep. He was dreaming. Maybe even about something nice. He didn't know. Maybe he wasn't even dreaming at all and all Canada saw was blackness in his mind as he slept. Maybe, but he preferred to think that he was dreaming. Dreams were nice, they gave you hope.

England let out a sigh and sat down still leaning against the back of the couch. He gazed upwards a little bit. His head coming to rest against the back of the couch with a soft "thunk". His eyes stayed focused on the wall before him.

England let out a soft breath before speaking out loud to himself. "Hey Canada, would you like to hear about my feelings?"

England smiled a little. He was glad that Canada was still fast asleep on the couch behind him or what he was going to be saying would have been really embarrassing.

"You know, Canada, I have liked you for a very long time. I can't even really remember when I first realized I like you. I think it may have even been way back when you first grew up to look like an adult, way back in the 1900's. Do you remember that day? It was just after America had left. I had been piss drunk that day, trying to drink enough to forget about what he said to me. I had been trying to drown my troubles out, childishly trying to avoid my problem, when I should have been trying to figure it all out rationally. And you had been so kind to me that day. You helped me get up onto my feet and led me home. You tried to sober me up and think about my problem for me. You didn't have to have done that. You could have let me rot. But, you didn't. Thank you so very much for all of that."

England's breath caught in his throat, he cleared it, embarrassed a bit that his eyes were starting to tear up slightly. a few drops escaped to run down his cheeks. Impatiently, he wiped them away with the back of his hand.

England shifted his legs so that he was more comfortable, one leg going straight out from him and the other leg bent, just a bit, as if he were about to read a favorite novel.

His hands came down from their crossed position across his chest for his right hand to lay in his lap and for his left hand to then become balanced upon his bent knee.

"I really don't know how to say this, I never have been very good at this type of thing, and even if I am not too sure about saying this to you face to face quite yet, I would still like to say this to you, Canada.

England then went to stand up turning around and then leaning out over the top of his couch to look down upon Canada's peaceful sleeping face.

"Canada, I think that I might just love you."


	2. Chapter 2

'Why can't he see how much I like him?' Arthur thought to himself as he rested his head in his hand while gazing down the long conference room table towards Canada. He was glad that his seat wasn't too far away so he could see him clearly but, that it wasn't close enough to him that his staring would become noticed. That would be awkward.

He was pointedly ignoring the lecture taking place at the front of the room now. He wasn't even pretending to be interested in what was being said. He may respect Germany whenever he was the one talking to the assembled nations, but America? Ha, no. There were much better uses of his time than listening to the nonsense that one spouted.

Such as this, watching Mathew nibble delicately on his bottom lip while he is trying to perfect a meaningless doodle on his paper. Then again, he could also be writing down notes about the lecture; but, he doubted that was what he was doing. A pencil moves across a paper to write, it goes from left to right in a smooth line then glides back again under the words it has just written to create a new line of meaning for the writer to look over in their spare time, and use at a later date.

That wasn't what he was doing. No, his pencil wasn't moving in that way. It was staying in the same spot on the paper. Just like how his own eyes had been staying fixed in the same spot for the past long while. Watching Mathew made a good distraction, from the boring lecture, but also from his thoughts at the moment.

Or not quite moment as he'd been thinking in this way for the past few months. Ever since he had suddenly and irreversibly noticed Canada in a entirely new light that he had not been able to see him in before, and hadn't ever thought he would. A shame that. Maybe if he had seen him like this before he wouldn't have to be so scared of being friend-zoned, or rather it would be family-zoned in his case.

Because, if he hadn't seen him in this way that he was now before this, then surely Mathew would never see him in the same way. His feelings were a fluke, it wouldn't happen again. It would be too much of a coincidence that Mathew would like him in the same way that he liked him. He would probably never return his feelings.

And so, he stayed there, unbothered by everyone else during the rest of the meeting. So different from his usual meetings, where he was up there argueing with America or France, or giving a running commentary on his thoughts of the ideas proposed; but then again, no one had noticed that he wasn't participating like he normally was, and he really wasn't in the mood for a fight with anyone anyways.

'So, does it really matter or not if I let myself act like this? It doesn't, does it? No one cares. Which is good. It'd be bothersome if someone were to poke their nose into my private business.'

He stayed alone in his seat, alone with his thoughts in the meeting, and after the meeting ended this continued in his room at home. But, just as he wasn't literally alone in the meeting room, where all of the nations had been together, he wasn't alone in his house. For not two doors down from his own room was Canada's room, still there from his colonial days and untouched by the ravages of time, or his tinkering with it. It was kept pristine, completely clean, but for the occasional visit from its owner. Its owner that was in there even now.

It was bugging England to no end. His breathing was too loud in the quiet of the room. But, not as loud as his heart that was racing and keeping any coherant thoughts he had at bay. It was just allowing his stray disjointed ones to in.

'He's pretty.'

'I think I like him.'

'What should I do?'

Only those were bouncing around in his brain. It was driving him insane.

"Ugh. Mathew, you're driving me mad." England groaned as he hid his head in his hands before slowly dragging them down his face.

Like that would actually help his thought process at all. He still couldn't think clearly. Wasn't talking supposed to help with things like this?

And there, from down the hall, came the sound of a door quietly opening. He would have missed it if he wasn't so hyper aware of what was in that direction. It was the guest bedroom. Mathew's guest bedroom.

Mathew was in the hall, getting closer, his soft footsteps on the carpet being muffled but getting louder all the same. Then he silently slipped past, the light coming in underneath his door being blocked for an instant being the only indication that he was there. Mathew always had been quiet. For a moment there it had seemed like Mathew was going to stop and come into his room.

"Bugger."

'Why would he come in to my room?'

'Why am I so disappointed?' He thought to himself as the stifled sound of rattling dishes and the click of the stove being turned on came from his kitchen. Mathew was making a midnight snack.

'I could join him.' That thought was quickly banished though.

'I can't figure this out. It's probably only lust. I hate that feeling. It's so fake. But, there is no such thing as love most likely. So this is what I'm left with, a racing heart, fumbling thoughts, and with no idea of what I want to do with it. I hate feelings. I absolutely hate it. Go away. Why won't they just go away?'


	3. Chapter 3

It was a few days later that he had to face his difficulties again. It was the afternoon. The meeting had ended earlier that day and he and Mathew were out on the streets near where he lived shopping and just walking around. Mathew seemed to be having fun sightseeing. Then again, it wasn't that often that he got to come to London so his excitement was perfectly justified to Arthur. He'd probably enjoy going to Ottawa or any of Mathew's other capitals too. He had already seen everything around him though. It wasn't too exciting to him.

What was more exciting was the person darting around beside him and looking every way. That was what he found exciting. Too exciting. Most people like exciting things. Most of the time he would too, but not with this. Not with Mathew staying so close to him. It might give him away. And that, that would not be good. It wouldn't be good at all.

Mathew had cooked lunch for them both earlier, which was awful for England. It wasn't the taste or anything like that he didn't like. It was the situation itself. Mathew cooking for him had just felt too...domestic.

He had to leave the room eventually, and live through Mathew's inquiring stares while they were eating. He was probably wondering why he had left the room so suddenly, in the middle of a conversation too. Mathew seemed to have no idea what he was thinking about him, which was good.

And yet, he couldn't help wishing that he would just get it already so that he wouldn't have to live through all these disjointed thoughts, and all the nervousness, and the fear of rejection that was always accompanying them.

What would Mathew ever see in him? A former father figure? Definitely nothing even the slightest bit romantic. He stood no chance of being seen as otherwise in Mathew's eyes most likely. He could never be seen as a love interest that was for sure. And a relationship where Mathew saw him as a father would be too creepy.

'I'm doomed.' Arthur thought as he watched Mathew lean forward to sniff at some flowers artfully displayed on a stand in front of a small store.

He looked so beautiful like that. His hair had fallen forward to frame his face and it shone a honey gold colour in the afternoon light. His eyes had closed to concentrate on smelling the flower better. Mathew looked so happy and at peace with himself in that moment. The scene was perfect for him. He wanted it to last forever.

Arthur looked towards the store. A florist shop.

"Could you wait here for just a moment Mathew? I just need to get something really quick." Arthur was already heading for the entrance to the store as he spoke. Mathew barely even looked up from the flower that had caught his attention so easily to nod his acknowledgment of Arthur's words.

The inside of the store was mainly filled with orchids. They were all very pretty flowers, and delicate looking like the flowers on display outside. But, they weren't what he was looking for. Thankfully they did have what he wanted. Which was unusual as his order was very strange. How was it that they had exactly what he wanted?

He swiftly paid and walked out of the store with a red prairie lily, a dogwood flower, and eleven other colourful flowers. Each one the provincial or territorial flower of Canada's different pieces of land.

He hoped that Mathew would understand the special meaning attached to them. That he noticed him. He saw him. He honestly cared about him. Why else would he know such otherwise useless information like what his flowers were but for that reason? Who would know those kinds of things? He wanted to see Mathew hold the flowers and be happy because of them during their whole walk to his home together. And with this kind of gift, maybe he would get to see the look that Mathew gave those flowers outside the store one more time.

* * *

Hello everyone, sorry for such a short chapter. I just want to tell you that I haven't forgotten this story, and that while I was camping this summer I wrote out the entirety of the story. So, when my internet connection is more stable, probably when school starts, I'll be able to update faster. Sorry for the wait and everything. I hope you are all having a wonderful summer vacation.


	4. Chapter 4

England was watching Canada pack, leaning his back against the wall near the door. The flowers that he'd bought for him are in a clear crystal vase on the dresser near him.

"So, when will you be coming back here then?"

"I don't know for sure actually. But, it won't be long. I'll be back soon. Tell you what, I'll keep it in my mind and make sure to come back here to visit before the next meeting starts, alright?"

Arthur nodded his confirmation while also speaking it. "That seems fine to me."

Mathew twisted around to smile at him, "Yeah." he moved across the room dragging his suitcase behind him. Saying a quick "Excuse me." before brushing past England to go out into the hallway to the door. Arthur trailed after him and watched him leave his house, both of them said their good byes and Mathew was gone and on his way to the airport. He was leaving him behind.

His words before he left hadn't reassured England at all though.

'I don't want him to ever leave me like this.'

But, those were foolish thoughts, because he was already gone and you can't change the past only the future. And he would never get up the courage to think these thoughts before Mathew left, only after he was gone. He could only sit around and mope, regret his choices, then try to figure out a plan to avoid these situations from happening again only to abandon it when he gets the chance to put it into action.

'Like the fool I am I can only ever think about things but never act on them. Stupid. So stupid. Why think at all if it does nothing to help you in the end?'

And when Mathew finally did come back to visit it hadn't felt like it was "soon" at all. Any time apart felt like it was too long now. God dammit, he really had it bad now. He could understand where the expression love is like a disease came from now, now that he was infected and lying on its death bed about to be overcome by it. Why couldn't he just get up the courage to act on his feelings?

It was too much of a bother really. It was distracting him too much. Mathew was distracting him. He could avoid him maybe. Then maybe this would all go away. His problems could simply disappear like Mathew would from his life. Then he wouldn't be so distracted, if Mathew was gone. Could he really follow through on that though?


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Canada came back to England the flowers were all wilted. They had withered away on the dresser he'd left them on without him ever really getting to appreciate them. He hadn't wanted to risk bringing them through baggage check at the airport and had left them for England to enjoy. He hadn't cared to. The room was left alone. So, they had stayed there on Mathew's dresser, alone, slowly dying, and drooping. Their petals falling off one by one with no one to see it happening.

'At least they still smelled nice. The flowers, even dead, freshened up the room quite a bit.' Which was great. He hadn't been able to enter the room to clean it up since Mathew had left. At least it wasn't musty like he had feared it would be. The flowers still smelled as nice as a fresh bouquet, as if they had never died at all.

England decided as he cracked open a window to air out the room a bit before Mathew got there. The flowers were almost overpowering now that they'd been confined to such a small space for such a long time.

Mathew had come to have tea with him. That was what the visit was for. Nothing much had really been planned, and that's all that they had decided on from their conversation over the phone before. But that was fine, there was nothing wrong with drinking tea. It was a perfectly normal activity that was calming and comfortable to do. There was nothing wrong with it at all. It didn't warrant a flight across the Atlantic for though.

'So, something would need to be made up beyond just drinking tea.' Arthur decided.

'But, not right now.' England thought as he looked outside to the taxi that had just pulled up in front of his door. 'That would be Mathew. We can discuss this together. This is his visit after all. That's what we'll do. Sit down for tea and talk about it. Now I even have a conversation starter. Perfect. Wait, decide on it together? Why can't everything be done together? Wouldn't that be nice? Everything together, always. I'd like that. It'd be sweet. But, unlikely. Too bad I can't make sweet things. Then again, I can't make anything at all. All of my cooking sucks. Even I know that. But, Mathew can cook. So, will that make up for it? Will that be alright?'

He shrugged and left the room. 'Those are questions for another time.'

The front door could be heard being opened downstairs, and he wanted to see Mathew again. His questions could wait. He could wait until he was brave enough. Maybe. Who knows? He may have magic, but he couldn't read the future. No one can.


	6. Chapter 6

'Politics, politics, politics. Of course Mathew would only come over to discuss stupid politics. Why couldn't I think of something to do myself? But, at least Mathew gave a valid excuse. His government must try to control him more than mine does if his boss wouldn't let him go unless we talked about trade. Until he brought it up I hadn't known about me being his second largest trading partner. If I'm going to be this obsessed with someone, I should be more aware of the things about them.'

'This entire thing could have turned out a lot better. This didn't go how I wanted it to at all.'

'Am I always just going to be a "trading partner" for Mathew? Why couldn't I have valued him more before? Would things have turned out in the same way they have if I had?'

'I'm acting like a bloody teenager.'

England sat up in bed and looked at the wall where a mirror hung; he looked like a wreck. England sighed and stood up, 'maybe I should have a shower or something to freshen up a bit.'

"I really do need to get over myself now. Unlike in the past, I can no longer convince myself that the universe revolves around my world, my country, and myself. There are other things that need to be done; and I'm being silly about this in the first place."

Instead of a shower, he decided to cook some breakfast. It didn't end well.

'Would Mathew be averse to cooking for me? He'd probably be very good at it.' He thought.

He probably shouldn't be sucking on his burnt thumb like this though, it made him feel even more childish.

He stuck it under cold water. 'Mathew would probably be fretting and worrying about this if he was here.'

* * *

Mathew had come to visit again that day, and Arthur had made up his mind. Before Mathew was even fully through the door he had confessed out loud, his nervousness had still shown through when he had stuttered it though. Arthur's eyes widened, he'd messed it up. He grabbed onto Canada's arm to keep him from leaving as he saw Mathew start to inch his way back out the door. He had to keep him from leaving, again.

Canada looked uncertain, "I don't know England." He looked behind him at the still open door and shut it before turning back to Arthur. "I...just don't see you in that way. I'm sorry. I-I don't know what to say exactly." He turned away.

England saw his shoulders shaking. 'Was he crying?' "Canada?" It was better to use his formal name right now England sensed. "Are you crying?"

Canada sobbed, then tried to speak as well as he could. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't mean to hurt you like this; but, I just don't know how...to say it, I guess. I truly don't want you to feel bad; but, I really don't want a relationship right now either. I'm sorry, this kind of thing is very stressful for me, okay? I don't want you hurt, and I don't know how to help you either. All I can really say with confidence though, is that you must be mistaken. You can't possibly love me."

"I'm going to be leaving now, okay?" He looked back, his eyes connecting with England's. He had been crying. "Goodbye, Arthur. I'll see you at the next meeting."

He jerked his arm out of Arthur's grip and left the house closing the door quietly behind himself. Two hours later, England could feel him leaving the country. He really was gone.

'I'm not too sure if he'll ever even come back. He could be gone forever now. I completely blew it. I messed up so badly just blurting it out like that. I hate it, no, that's false. The truth is that I hate myself.'

His next thoughts were drowned in a bottle that he'd been busy digging in his cabinet for.


	7. Chapter 7

At the next world meeting, which thankfully the date wasn't too far away, England had tried his best to talk to Canada. Canada would have none of it.

"Can you please stop following me?" Mathew asked as he nervously gave a smile to a passing nation and tried to walk fast enough to stay away from Arthur.

"Can't we just talk? Please stop trying to leave and let's just **talk **about this."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Then just let me talk about it."

"No."

"Why not?" England asked.

"Because this makes me uncomfortable." Mathew answered.

"That can't be the only thing, you're blushing."

"Fine," Mathew said. "If you really want to know, you called me after I left, and I think you were drunk. I'll let you figure out the rest." Mathew blushed suddenly, his cheeks flushing red, and gave his goodbyes. "Now, I really need to leave."

Arthur let him slip away from him, thread his way throughout the crowded meeting room, and leave. The meeting still had three hours left to it. Arthur sighed, and paid attention to keeping notes so he could at the least tell Mathew about that.

He really didn't want to think about what he had said while drunk. He could only hazard guesses. He couldn't remember any of it himself. He dreaded to learn exactly what had happened; unfortunately, he could easily think of what likely **had** happened. He just didn't want to admit to himself that he had broken down and tried to repeat himself, begging, and likely crying in a pitiful way for Mathew to respond to him positively. So, he concentrated on his notes, and tried not to think, at all.

* * *

'What was that?' The phone was ringing. 'That's odd. Who would be calling me now? Canada? No, that's right. He doesn't want to talk to me. Might as well pick it up anyway.'

"Hello?" Arthur asked.

"Hi."

"Canada?" He questioned. "What? Why?"

"Um," his voice sounded uncertain, and wavering. "Well, there's something I'd like to talk to you about."

"Alright."

'He wouldn't want to talk in person.'

There was silence on the other end of the phone, obviously he would need some prompting to get started.

"Well? Go ahead." Arthur winced, that had sounded too brisk and rude.

Mathew didn't seem to notice. "No, uh, not on the phone like this. This-I want to talk to you about this in private, like face to face. Is there a time I could meet you at? I'm already here."

'How had he not noticed that?'

Mathew's voice continued. "And, um, where would you like to go? Is your house okay? I'm pretty close to there."

Arthur's eyebrows lifted. This was surprising to hear. It sounded almost like-no, that couldn't be it.

"Um, yeah," he said instead without voicing his thoughts. "My house is perfect."

"A bit prideful there, eh?"

The laughter sounded forced, but it wasn't at all. It wasn't much, but it had been enough to make them laugh, and that was all that was needed. It felt comfortable to talk to each other again.

"Whatever you say Mathew, my home is wonderful. Don't you dare insult it. It's almost six o'clock. Would you like to have dinner with me?"

"Just so long as you're not the one that's making it. Do you mind if I cook? I could pick something up if you don't want me to."

"Your cooking is fine."

Mathew giggled. "Thank you, I'm glad you like it. It's good to know that all of papa's efforts to teach me to cook properly weren't wasted. So, I'll see you in a few, okay? And, by the way, I want to talk about what you said. I shouldn't have just blow you off immediately like that. I'd like to do it, be your boyfriend that is. I'd like to at least try. Um, yeah, goodbye."

Mathew ended off and hung up a little too quickly for his nervousness to stay hidden. Not that his voice and trailing off hadn't been a total giveaway.

The dial tone didn't bother England though. He didn't hear it.

'I could be your boyfriend. Mathew said it. Mathew was willing to try it, to do something as risky as a relationship with him. He saw him in **that** light. Well, maybe, and maybe he was still the only one blinded, but he could at least try to change that now. He did it. He was able to win him over, almost. He would just ignore that he hadn't fully convinced Mathew but, the battle was half over now. He wouldn't have any more negative thoughts piling up inside him like casualties anymore.'

"Yes!" He yelled, punching his fist into the air, then slowly lowered it feeling foolish.

'I'm acting too much like America, I'll need to curb that bad habit more, I'm acting like such an idiot then being so weird afterward. That's not very good. That isn't what I should be concentrating on. I don't care about that right now. Mathew said yes. This is so strange, being so happy for something so simple, but I just can't believe I did it. I tried my hardest to avoid it, and yet I feel so much better about…everything now. Concealing everything…I need to stop doing that. In a relationship you share everything. I-I can do that. I can stop holing everything up, I can put that behind me.'

'I did it.'

He laughed out loud, for no reason it seemed. He set the phone down on its charger and something caught his eye while he was doing it.

A calendar. The calendar he'd had hanging up on his wall for the past year. He'd hung it up just before he first realized all this. It had been the day before Mathew stayed over and fell asleep on his couch that first day. It had been a year. A year since he first started all this, and realized that he might like Mathew when he didn't particularly liked anyone.

It had taken such a long time, everything takes time, but a year? Why had it taken him so long to follow through on what he truly wanted to do? He used to be an empire. Why had he been so afraid of a little bit of pain? Maybe because it hadn't been a pain he was overly familiar with? It didn't matter. At least this time he didn't have a scar to show for it. He hadn't been rejected, fully. He hadn't gotten hurt. He'd taken a leap, and Mathew had caught his breath with his reply, and him with it. He hadn't fallen, like that saying always seems to make seem will happen.

He had risen.


End file.
